chances
by hecates
Summary: The last thing Belle expected when she went to Rumpelstiltskin's stronghold was saving his life. au. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

[**A/N**] Rumelle may or may not have just become my OTP based on that promo. Anyway, my sequence of events with the classic fairy tale. I'm pretty sure the show's version will be 10x better, which is why I intend on keeping this short.

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><p><strong>Chances:<br>**_**Prologue**_

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><p><strong>A<strong> wheezing cough broke the silence of the house, and Belle Deschamps closed her book and slipped it into her basket. "Papa, the doctor said that your medicine will be ready any day now," she called to the empty house. "I'll go and get it, all right?"

A weak sneeze answered her. She grabbed her green cloak from the rack and put it on, reaching for her basket and slipping her book in it as well. She could return the rental to the library in the town while she was there.

She gave the room one last look and slipped outside, taking the book from the basket and beginning to read.

"Good morning, Belle!" called someone, making her look up. Gaston Bouchard—the most sought-after man in her village himself—sidled up to her side and took her basket. "Let me take that."

Belle blinked and forced a smile. "Hello, Gaston. How are you?"

"Better, now that I've seen you this morning," he said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her head. "Where are you off to?"

"The library. I need to drop off my book and then pick up my papa's medicine."

"Ah, poor Maurice. Still sick, eh?" He shook his head and frowned. "Why don't you go to the library and drop your book off, and I'll go pick up your father's medicine?"

She fought to keep the smile on her face. He really wanted her to marry him, didn't he? "I don't know, Gaston," she began. "I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself."

"Ah, Belle, I know you. You'll be too lost in a book to remember the medicine yourself. I'll be saving you the hassle!"

He looked at her with an earnest expression and she noticed the blonde triplets glaring at her from the water pump. "Okay," she said with a bright smile. "You go do that. I'll see you later. Bye!"

She turned on her heel and wove through the crowd, the library in her sights. When the little bell rang above the door, signaling her arrival, the librarian looked up and beamed. "Belle? Back already?"

"Yes! It was wonderful. I fell even more in love with it the second time," she said, handing the book to him. "I'm going to go and try and find something new, if you don't mind, sir."

The librarian chuckled and started browsing the shelves. "I wish you luck."

She headed straight for the fantasy shelves. Just as she'd decided to pick an interesting-looking red-covered book, she heard the words "miracle worker" and fell still. Two women were gossiping in the row in front of her.

"Well, he's certainly the devil's miracle worker, Fiona. Elise was a fool getting caught up with the likes of him. Everyone knows there are more than enough orphans going around this town!"

"Aye! And she still refuses to tell anyone what she gave him in return for being able to bear a son!"

Belle fell still and slowly put the book in her basket. Elise Garnier was a well-known villager who had been barren all her life. Anyone who had been able to make sure she could have children must've been very powerful.

Anyone who had been able to fix her barrenness must be able to fix a simple stubborn illness as well.

Belle rushed around the shelves and came at the end of the aisle, heading straight to the two women. They eyed her warily.

"Belle. What can I help you with?" asked Fiona, the bald aristocratic lady who changed her wig every other day.

Belle bit her lip and said, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I heard you talking about a devil's miracle worker . . . would you mind telling me who this man is?"

The other woman patted her shoulder sympathetically. "You're a smart girl, Belle. Don't be getting caught up in the likes of _him_."

"Who is this man? Please, tell me," she pleaded. Fiona flipped her red sausage curls over her shoulder and sniffed.

"Ah, what does it matter? The devil miracle worker, child, is Rumpelstiltskin."

After gathering more details about this mysterious Rumpelstiltskin, Belle thanked her and left the library after checking out. Gaston was waiting for her, her basket full of medicine in hand. "Gaston! Thank you," she said, taking the basket from his hands. His gaze focused on her and he frowned.

"The duke has requested all villagers report to the main square at once. Come, Belle." Gaston grabbed her arm and started leading her to the center of the village. Belle's heart started thumping erratically—the duke was a cruel man, and the village had been lucky to have little contact with him. If he was at their village, his news couldn't be good.

The duke had just started talking when they arrived. "Greetings, everyone," he said, raising a hand in acknowledgement. "I welcome you all and I come bearing news. As you know, our country is engaged in a terrible war with those foul beasts the ogres."

Belle dug her nails into Gaston's arms. The Ogre Wars had been the worst conflict in her country's history—re-engaged at different times by different dukes. This was getting worse and worse.

"Sadly, we are losing. Badly. And I have decided to do something about it. This village has remained unused by the duke for far too long. Now, I shall put it to use. Starting in a week, every able-bodied person from the age of fourteen to twenty-three will be sent to the battlefields in the north. Failure to comply, or to run away from battle, will result in death."

The duke's eyes landed on Belle. His expression changed from stern to hungry so quickly it made her shudder. "Unless, however, the duke decides to give you another job to perform in this war."

He nodded, signaling the end of his little speech, and his guards quickly made haste to usher the villagers out. Belle pulled away from Gaston and turned on her heel, heading toward her house with a kind of vacant awareness.

"Belle? Belle!" shouted Gaston, quickly catching up with her. "Belle, do you want to go to the tavern with me to . . . share a drink? I think we have a lot to talk about."

She resisted rolling her eyes—the last thing she wanted to do was go to the tavern with Gaston and _share a drink_. Stepping out of his attempted casual embrace, she said, "I'm sorry, Gaston, but maybe another time. My father is expecting me."

He looked disappointed, but he let her go. After she'd crossed the stream, she glanced over her shoulder and broke out into a run.

"Papa? I'm home!" she called, opening the door.

"Belle?" a hoarse voice replied. She shut the door with her foot and put the basket on the table, filling a glass with water from the pump and grabbing a bag of medicine.

"I'm here, Papa," she said, sitting at his bedside and withdrawing a vial of green liquid from the pouch. "I have your medicine here. Open your mouth."

He obligingly did and she uncorked the medicine, pouring it down his throat, and handing him the water afterwards. Maurice broke into loud coughing and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry you have to listen to that all day, my dear," he said, sneezing.

She smiled and patted his hair with a damp cloth. "It's all right, Papa. I know someone who will make you feel better."

"Really? Who?"

She winked and leaned forward, stage-whispering, "It's a secret. But you'll get better, Papa, I promise."

No need to tell him that she would be leaving his side in a few weeks. The Ogre Wars had ripped countless families apart, and the lucky few to remain intact often had done it by fleeing the duke.

Maurice smiled and cupped his daughter's face. "You look so like your mother. What would I ever have done without you two?"

Belle leaned into his hand and smiled. "I don't know, Papa. Get some rest. I'll start preparing dinner."

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><p><strong>A<strong>fter nightfall, Belle slowly sat up and pushed the covers off of her. She was already dressed in her travelling clothes and was ready to go.

She put on her shoes when she reached the kitchen and put on her cloak, returning one last time to her father's bedroom doorway. Maurice was snoring, sound asleep, and the basket full of medicine was on his bedside table.

He'd be all right. She'd be back soon enough.

"I'm doing this for you, Papa," she whispered, before turning and exiting the house.

The two women in the library had said that Rumpelstiltskin lived in a large manor deep in the woods. Apparently a road branched off from the main one, and then forked in two. She merely had to follow the right road all the time and would reach the mansion quickly.

She was careful to stick to the side of the road, knowing that causing too much attention could draw the scrutiny of bandits. Owls hooted and the moon shone, full and bright, onto the dark forest before her.

True to the women's word, after about an hour, she came across a large gate in the middle of the woods. She couldn't see anything but trees past that, but the manor had to be in there somewhere.

The gate creaked open before she touched it. More than a little uneasy, Belle stepped inside the property and it groaned shut behind her. "He _must_ be the devil's miracle worker," she whispered under her breath.

She'd come too far to give up now—and it would rain soon, she could smell it. Taking a deep breath, Belle pulled the cloak around herself tighter and hurried on.

A looming silhouette of a house burst out of the canopy of branches within a few minutes. It took her breath away.

When she reached the front door, it, too, swung open without her touching it. She stepped inside and swallowed hard. The door shut loudly, making a noise not unlike thunder echo throughout the dark entrance hall.

Belle groped around the hallway, hoping for some lamp that she could light. Her hands wrapped around something and a candelabrum flared to life in her hands. She gasped and jumped back, right into the hard chest of someone. She turned around to see a man staring at her.

His hair was dirty and unkempt, and his eyes were a crazed hazel color—and his skin was the strangest shade of bronze she'd ever seen. "Hello, dearie," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. He drummed his fingers against each other and tilted his head. "What can I help you with?"

"Are . . . are you . . ." she whispered, not quite able to bring herself to finish.

He winked, his grin widening. "Rumpelstiltskin? Yes, dearie, I am. No one comes to me unless they want something. Isn't that why you're here?"

She set the candelabrum down on the table and wet her lips. "Well, yes. I want you to cure my father's sickness. And . . . I want you to spare my village from the Ogre Wars."

His smile vanished. "The Ogre Wars?" he asked, frowning. "Hasn't that been over for a while now?"

"It's been on and off. Now's an on day. The duke said that he would be sending soldiers to the battlefields in two weeks. Ages fourteen to twenty-three. He's sending children and I can't have that on my conscience, not when I have the chance to ask you."

"Well, I'll see what I can do—" he hesitated, grin fully reinstated, "—but it's gonna cost ya something."

She held her breath. This was the part the women had warned her about. Rumpelstiltskin was nothing if not greedy and he would always want something in return for a favor. And she was smarter than to say that she would give up anything—because she wouldn't.

She swallowed hard, her mouth strangely dry, and said, "What do you want?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Oh, I don't know. I'll let you know when I decide."

Belle blinked. "I'm sorry, but I don't have time for you to contemplate what you want. This is a matter of life and death—both for those children the duke will be sending on the front lines and my father!"

Rumpelstiltskin was unruffled by her remark. His smile turned into a sneer and he mocked, "Well, life is unfair sometimes."

Thunder boomed, shaking the house. Belle jumped instinctively. Her only source of light in this place was the candelabra—something that she felt would be put out soon. Rumpelstiltskin clasped his hands behind his back and turned around, humming a tuneless little song to himself.

Belle looked down. It had been nearly an hour's walk from the village to this manor, and from the sounds of it the rain would be pouring for quite a while. "Will I have to go back out there?" she asked. "I—I came all this way."

Rumpelstiltskin stopped and turned around, his expression so frightful she took a step back. "Do you want to stay the night here, dearie? Ya sure your beloved won't miss you?"

"My _beloved_—?" began Belle, but she stopped herself before she could go on further. She didn't want the devil's miracle worker to know too much about her. He could use it against her in an attempt at another bargain. "No."

"Well, the couple who had this place before won't be needing it any longer. Be my guest," he said, spreading his hands.

"Does it matter which room I take?" she asked, clenching her hands in her cloak. Rumpelstiltskin raised a hand and waved it before disappearing into the shadows. Belle blinked and picked the candelabra up with both hands.

"I'll take that as a no," she muttered, using the light of the candelabra to guide her up the rickety stairs and into a vacated room.

Lightning lit up the room every ten seconds and she set the candelabra on the end table, sitting down on the bed. She took a little time to examine her new room, noticed how yawning it was, and frowned.

"He must be so lonely here."

Behind the door, Rumpelstiltskin jerked away from her room like he'd been burned. "She's Maurice's daughter," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.


	2. Chapter 1

[**A/N**] Wow, guys! Your response made me smile. I never thought this story would be so popular. Anyway, this story is now _complete _. . . as in I'm done writing it, not posting it. Make of that what you will. A huge thank-you to my beta VampyrycPinapple. Feedback, as always, is appreciated. And now on with the show!

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><p><strong>Chances:<br>**_**Chapter 1**_

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><p><strong>B<strong>elle woke up to a muted light in the room. It didn't surprise her—everything here was so _dark_.

Well, she would have to fix that.

Stretching and covering a yawn, Belle sat up and pushed off the bed, padding over to the windows and wrenching the drapes apart. Sunlight hit her sensitive eyes full-force and she covered her eyes with a small hiss.

Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she turned around to stare at her room full-on. It was still far too gloomy for her taste, but it wasn't her room, so it would have to do.

Belle fastened her cloak and stepped into the hallway, glancing about for her host. Rumpelstiltskin was nowhere to be found. She went to the end of the hallway and tugged the curtains away.

She had reached the parlor and was in the process of pulling the heavy drapes off the windows when a voice said, "Whaddya doin'?"

She went still and looked over her shoulder. Rumpelstiltskin was leaning against the wall, staring at her with intrigue. A blush crept up her cheeks as she realized that this was his house and he had probably closed all the drapes in the house for a reason. "I'm sorry," she began, "it was just so dark and I just . . ."

He held up a hand, cutting her off. "Oh, I don't care. They were like that when I arrived, anyway."

Belle frowned. He had looked less eerie in the darkness last night. "Oh. Well, a little sunlight won't hurt anyone. Have you decided your price yet?"

Rumpelstiltskin gave her a flat stare, his hazel eyes frigid. "Oh, yes. Nothing from you, dearie, but you'll be a nice price from your father's broken deal."

"From my father?" repeated Belle, narrowing her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin let out a high-pitched giggle.

"Yes! Maurice, is it? Well. He made a deal with me—a rose for the first thing that came out of his house which, apparently, was _you. _So your father's illness has been cured now that you're here. But the Ogre Wars . . . I'll have to think about that."

Belle froze. "You mean—I have to stay here? With you?"

His lips curled into a cruel half-smile. "No one breaks deals with me, dearie. I'm afraid so."

"Did you want _me_ in particular, or—"

He laughed again. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. I wanted the first thing that came out of his house. It could've been you, it could've been his wife, it could've been his _dog_, for all I care."

Belle clenched her hands into fists and jerked her chin up, staring him in the eye. "How long do you want me to stay with you?"

Rumpelstiltskin grinned and held up a finger. "Ah, but there's the catch! He and I agreed to, well, _forever_. You won't be seeing your precious daddy _ever_ again."

Belle gaped at him. "You can't be serious," she whispered, trembling. "You can't be. _Me_, living with _you_, for_ forever_—"

He frowned and turned around, cutting her off. "Oh, but I am, dearie. Enjoy your stay!"

Rumpelstiltskin left her then, astonished and paralyzed. Then, with a soft cry, she ran out of the room, up the stairs, and into her room. Belle slammed the door and threw herself onto the bed, burying her face in her arms. "Papa, I'm sorry," she whispered.

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><p><strong>D<strong>ays passed into a week and Belle was still nowhere to be found. Needless to say, this distressed Gaston Bouchard greatly. His fiancée-to-be was missing, which gave him less time to win her over, which gave him less time to convince her to marry him.

He knew her old bat Maurice approved of him, but he just needed Maurice to convince his daughter to marry him and not fill her head about learning and that mumbo-jumbo.

He downed his drink at the tavern and sent a smile to one of the triplets—he couldn't remember which one—draped across his arm. "As I was saying," he began, when the tavern door opened loudly and an old man stumbled in.

"Help! Please! Can someone help me?"

Gaston, as well as the whole of the tavern, turned around to gape at him. "Maurice?" asked Gaston dubiously. "What are you doing out of bed? Aren't you supposed to be sick?"

"The medicine cured me!" claimed Maurice, allowing a spare moment to beam, "And now I'm good as new. But Belle is gone. I can't seem to find her anywhere!"

"We've noticed," said one of the triplets gleefully. The other two sighed and eyed Gaston.

"When was the last time you saw her, Maurice?"

"Weeks ago! We were eating dinner, and Belle told me that she knew someone who could cure me. I don't know if she's gone out of town to get a doctor, but I need to tell her that the medicine finally worked and now I'm healthy!"

Fiona sucked in a harsh breath, drawing the attention of the crowds. "Oh, she didn't," said the woman, palming her long auburn locks. "I told her not to. Oh, tsk, tsk. What a waste of beauty."

Maurice limped over to her table. "Do you know where she is?" he asked.

Fiona exchanged a glance with another townsperson. "Don't you know? She's gone to Rumpelstiltskin," she said.

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><p><strong>T<strong>he candelabrum's flames suddenly turned purple, making Belle look up. Over the past few days, she had become accustomed to associating certain times with the color of the candelabra's candles. Red meant breakfast, green meant lunch, purple meant dinner and blue meant bedtime.

She started as the armoire's doors suddenly burst open and held a hand to her heart, shaking her head. "I have got to get used to that," she whispered to herself. A purple dress materialized on the armoire's only hangar. She put it on and glanced at the strange clock on her nightstand. If she hurried, she wouldn't be late.

Rumpelstiltskin stood up when she entered the dining room and gestured for her to sit down. A lavish feast was set before them, making her wonder how so much food was prepared when she and Rumpelstiltskin were the only ones in the house, and various courses floated in the air, ready to assist whoever wanted them.

She sat down in the chair across from him and put her napkin in her lap. Much of the dinner was spent in silence—something that surprised her, considering they always went through the same routine of "how are you" and "did you do anything new today."

She poked around her plate of pork, peas and mashed potatoes, when Rumpelstiltskin finally put his fork down and stared at her. "Are you afraid of me, Belle?" he asked softly.

She didn't look up from her food. "Should I be?"

Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head and sneered at her. "I was just wondering if I could trust ya," he said, upper lip curling. "Your daddy's thinking of breaking you out."

Belle slowly looked up. "And?"

"And that doesn't _tempt_ ya? You won't run the first chance you get?"

Belle frowned. "I know the consequences of magic."

He scowled. "Oh, really? And what're your experiences with magic, dearie?"

Belle looked away. "My mother," she said finally, "wanted a son. She made a deal with a witch named Baba Yaga. But the baby was stillborn . . . and she died in childbirth."

Rumpelstiltskin straightened slightly. He'd heard of Baba Yaga—she was rumored to be even crazier than he! "I see," he said finally.

"It was a long time ago. I know better than to mess with magic."

"I see."

She took a shuddering breath and whispered, "When is my father planning to visit me?"

"Oh, I don't know, a few days from now," he said, shaking his head and scowling.

"Can I visit him?"

He replied with a glare. "Really? Ya've only been here two weeks, dearie, don't you think that's a little much to be asking of me?"

Belle tilted her head. "It's only to keep him from getting hurt," she pleaded. "Please. I'll go straight to the village, tell him I'm all right and that he shouldn't worry about me, and then I'll come straight back. He doesn't have anyone else to care for him; of _course _he's going to be concerned about my welfare."

Rumpelstiltskin clenched his jaw. "No."

"Please? I don't want him to get hurt. After I tell him that I'm okay, I'll come straight back."

Her expression was so earnest, so anxious, it made him turn his face away. He tried to look into the future, but the events had nothing to do with him, and thus it was merely a fog. It all boiled down to whether or not he could trust this girl. "Fine. But if you don't come back, I will hunt you down and drag you back here myself do you understand?"

She swallowed and stood up. "Yes. Thank you."

"Belle?" he snapped.

She stopped, turning halfway to look at him.

"Come back. That is my price," he said.

She nodded and smiled, turning back and disappearing into the darkness. Rumpelstiltskin sat back in his chair and sighed through his nose, staring at the spot where she'd disappeared.

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><p><strong>I<strong>t was late at night when she finally reached her home. The candles had been blown out and the animals were asleep. Belle opened the door and stepped inside, lighting a candle and heading toward her father's bedroom.

"Papa?" she whispered, opening the door. Maurice's silhouette sat up suddenly.

"Belle?" He threw the covers aside and nearly jumped out of bed, raising his arms toward her. Maurice grabbed her shoulders when he was close enough and stared at her with squinted eyes, as if it might've been a mirage. "It's you!"

"Yes, Papa," she said, hugging him. "I'm only here for a short time, though. I want to tell you—"

"How did you escape from that vile creature?" asked Maurice. Belle blinked, furrowing her brow.

"From whom?"

"Rumpelstiltskin," he hissed. "How did you escape?"

"I didn't escape, Papa, he let me go. I'm supposed to go back, though."

"Don't!" he whispered, giving her a small shake. "He's evil, Belle! _Evil!_"

She glared at him. "I don't think he is, Papa."

Maurice pulled away, staring at her with wide eyes. "He wanted me to give you to him for eternity, Belle! He wanted me to lose the only thing I had left! The suffering of others brings him pleasure. He's murdered people for less things, Belle. How can you say that he's not evil?"

Belle set the candle on the dresser and embraced her father. "Oh, Papa," she said, burrowing her face in his shoulder, "you always said I had Mama's way of seeing the best in everyone. He's really not that bad once you get to know him."

Maurice seemed horrified by this prospect. "And have you gotten to know the devil's handyman?"

Belle frowned. "I've had dinner with him for two weeks, Father."

"That's still no excuse!" He led her over to the bed and sat down, taking her hands in his. "Belle, all I want is your safety. You have a home here, friends who care about you, a fiancé who loves you—"

Bell shrunk away. "_Fiancé?_ Who am I engaged to, Papa?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Gaston. Now, Belle, I've thought long and hard about this, and I've decided that he would be the best match for you—"

Belle shook her head and got off the bed, gaping at her father. "You've always told me to marry for love! You've said yourself you want nothing more for me than to have a marriage like yours and Mama's. When did _that_ change?"

Maurice looked down. "I only want you to be happy," he whispered. Belle shook her head and sat down next to her father, wrapping her arms around him.

"Oh, Papa, I _am_ happy. I just wanted to tell you that I'm safe where I am, and Rumpelstiltskin will only hurt you if you try to find me. He—may not be the most sane of people, but he's sweet . . . sometimes . . . and—almost _kind,_ even. I thought he would treat me terribly, but he's been nothing but a gentleman, Papa."

"He was a gentleman when he met me, too, and look how I turned out," snarled Maurice. "Sick for seven years!"

"I'm almost nineteen, father," she hissed. "I think I am more than capable of making my own choices. And I'm smart enough to know that bad things happen when you don't pay magic's price."

She stood up and grabbed the now-empty basket on his end table. "I love you, Papa, but you can be so narrow-minded sometimes. I'm staying the night, but when I leave tomorrow, I don't want you following me. I'm safe where I am, and you'll only end up getting hurt. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Belle," said Maurice wearily.

The next morning, she kissed her father goodbye and took a less-known route to the forest. She did not want to deal with Gaston or any of the villagers ever again. Her only wish was that her father didn't go back on his word and decide to go after her again.

She was almost halfway to the manor when the jingling of horses' reins caught her attention. Belle moved to the side of the road to get out of the carriage's way when it came to a sudden stop and a woman's voice shouted, "You! Girl!"

Belle stopped walking and turned around, clutching her basket of belongings. "Yes?" she called.

A tall woman dressed entirely in black stepped out of the carriage and smiled at her. "I wish to talk to you, dear."


	3. Chapter 2

[**A/N**] Just letting you know, you guys are awesome. Feedback is welcome. Enjoy the show! :)

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><p><strong>Chances:<br>**_**Chapter 2**_

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><p>Belle licked her lips and turned around. She didn't recognize the woman, but something about her set off a warning bell in her mind. "Yes?" she asked.<p>

The woman came closer and wrapped an arm around Belle's shoulders. "Rumor has it that you're living with Rumpelstiltskin now. Is that true?"

"I don't know why that concerns you," replied Belle, staring straight ahead.

The woman smirked. "Well, sweetie, I'm here to give you some empowering girl talk. See, I knew him as a child. Oh, he was _so_ much better in those days."

"Better? What do you mean, better?" asked Belle.

"Well . . . what are your first impressions of Rumpelstiltskin when you see him, dear?" she asked, giving her a serious stare. "Tell me the truth. Do you get any eerie premonitions when you're around him?"

Belle took a deep breath. "Something . . . evil is inside him," she whispered. "I don't know why, or how, but it scares me."

The woman tsked and shook her head. "Such a shame. What's your name, girl?"

"Belle," she replied. "And yours?"

"Regina. See, Belle, when I knew Rumpelstiltskin as a child, he was very friendly. He didn't have that evilness inside him. He helped me out in a tough situation without a complaint. But then a sorcerer placed an evil spell on him that's made him like this. He cares for no one, Belle . . . but _you_."

"Me?" she whispered. "What? Why? How do you know?"

Regina held a hand to her heart, her expression sorrowful. "Like I said, that man and I go way back. We keep in contact every once and a while. Rumpelstiltskin is under a terrible curse, Belle, and only you can break it."

Belle glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. "How?"

Regina smiled and came to a stop, turning Belle around so she could look her in the eye. "There are two known ways. True love's kiss can break _any_ curse," she informed. "All _you_ need to do . . . is kiss him!"

"_Kiss_ him? But—"

Regina held up a finger, cutting her off, and started walking again. "Be quiet, Belle, I'm talking. As I was saying, if you don't think you love him, or that he doesn't love you, then there is another way. There's a magical dagger that Rumpelstiltskin has in store for his one true love. That dagger can destroy the evilness that lurks inside him. If you stab him, it will connect with the curse and vanquish it, and your Rumpelstiltskin will be kind and sweet again."

"Won't that kill him?" she said. "I—"

Regina's eyes widened and she shook her head empathetically. "Oh, no! No, not at all. The blade is magical, so it won't actually _pierce_ his body. If you want Rumpelstiltskin to be released from this terrible curse, find the dagger as soon as possible, and then break the curse. He's such a dear friend to me—I hate to see him in such pain."

Belle frowned. "He doesn't look like he's in pain to me."

"That, my dear, is because he is a _master_ actor. He broke his arm once and acted like it was only a bruise. Don't be fooled by his words. The only reason he wants you there is so that he can fall in love with you and thus break the sorcerer's curse."

Belle furrowed her brow. "He wants to fall in love with me?"

Regina cupped her face. "Of course he does, Belle. He thinks you're the most beautiful woman in the world. Why wouldn't he want to fall in love with you?"

"There are fairer," she replied, thinking of Snow White and her legendary beauty. "And looks aren't everything—"

Regina forced a tight smile and patted her cheek. "Oh, don't be modest. Remember, find the dagger so you can help my dear friend and break his curse."

They were near the place the path forked and came to a stop. "Good luck, my friend. I wish for nothing more than Rumpelstiltskin's happiness, and I have a feeling that you will be the girl to give him that joy."

Belle nodded and turned to go when Regina called after her. "Yes?" she asked, turning around again.

Regina smiled. "Please don't mention me to him. If you tell him, he'll only deny it. He's very proud, and doesn't really like it when I meddle in his affairs. It's a horrible habit, I know, but it's only concern for him that drives me to do it—anyway. This meeting will be our little secret, hmm? Oh, and Belle—the armor's the last line of defense."

Belle nodded, not having any clue of what the woman was talking about, before spinning on her heel and hurrying into the woods. Regina smirked and turned around, holding up her mirror.

"It worked like a charm," she told the face inside.

When Belle reached the house, the door opened silently and shut behind her when she went in. She untied her cloak and hung it up, humming to herself softly. "So how'd it go?" asked Rumpelstiltskin. She started and glanced up to see him on the second landing, leaning against the guardrails.

"It was fine," she replied, "I told him that he didn't need to worry about me and he agreed to not follow me to this place."

Rumpelstiltskin's expression remained stoic. She turned to go when he softly called, "Belle?"

"Yes?"

He shook his head slightly and frowned. "Trust your instincts. They're seldom wrong."

Before she could ask him what he meant, he pushed off the guardrail and melted into the shadows.

* * *

><p><strong>I<strong>t was almost a full month before she discovered the library.

Honestly, she hadn't realized what it was until she'd tugged the drapes off the window. When brilliant light flooded the room, she saw the dust-swathed bookshelves and gasped. The library was bigger than any other room in the house and Belle gave a little squeal before rushing up the stairs to browse the titles.

Finally, she climbed up a ladder and picked a green-bound book, plopping down on the ladder's steps to read.

Many hours later, the door open and Rumpelstiltskin stepped into the room. She glanced up from her book and waved him over. "What are ya doin' in the library, Belle?" he asked when he reached her ladder. Belle smiled and hugged the book to her chest.

"Reading! You—you don't think it's strange, do you?" she asked, suddenly insecure, remembering the things Gaston had said to her about her bookworm behavior before he'd decided to court her.

Rumpelstiltskin raised an eyebrow, not replying. Belle swallowed and slunk against the bookshelves, returning to her book.

Suddenly, the book was ripped out of her hands and Rumpelstiltskin was looking at the book with the strangest expression on his face. "Hey!" she cried, standing up and jumping down to the landing. "That's _mine_!"

"What is this?" he asked, pointing to the illustration on the opposite page.

"That's where she meets Prince Charming—but she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three—" she began, straining for it. Rumpelstiltskin was flipping through the pages and easily managed to keep it out of her reach.

"What happens then?"

"Well, the text is right there, you could actually read it instead of grabbing it like a madman—" she huffed, pulling away and crossing her arms over her shoulder. "Rumpelstiltskin, give me my book _now_. You can't just take things without _asking _for them! It's impolite."

The strange expression shifted to blankness and he handed her the book without a word. She clutched it to her chest and stared after him as he started down the stairs and realization hit her.

She wet her lips and said, "You don't know how to read or write, do you?"

Rumpelstiltskin stiffened. Belle sighed and stared at his rigid back with pity. "How many people have cheated you out of contracts, Rumpelstiltskin?"

He whipped around, eyes burning with fury and humiliation. "I fail to see how that's any of your concern," he spat.

She gave him a small smile in return. "All you need to do is ask, you know. I could teach you."

His fierce expression gave way to confusion. "What do you want in return?"

She laughed incredulously. "Is it so hard to believe that I just want to help you out of kindness? Is it possible to think that not all of us want a reward, or that some of us are happy the way they are?"

"Everyone wants something," he hissed, "no matter how kind or caring they are. They _always_ have an ulterior motive."

"Then what's mine? You know the future, don't you? What's _my_ ulterior motive for teaching you how to read and write?"

He didn't answer. She sighed, getting a little frustrated, and said, "All you need to do is ask."

She spun on her heel and sat down in one of the giant blue chairs across a chess table—the only furniture besides the ladders and shelves on the second landing, and opened the book to where she'd been the second time around.

A few seconds later, the other chair scraped across the floor and was pulled back. She glanced up to see Rumpelstiltskin watching her with somewhat serious hazel-gray eyes. "You win," he said crossly. "Teach me how to read and write."

"Puh . . . puh . . ."

Now he looked like he was sucking on lemons, a fact that made Belle smile. "Please."

Belle's smile widened and she flipped to the end of the book. "Um, this could be used for your paper, but I don't have a quill to use . . ."

Rumpelstiltskin grabbed her hand and shook his head. He pushed the book to the side and, in the empty space, a blank book and an ink quill appeared. Belle nodded appreciatively and turned the book around to face him. "All right. So. We'll start with the alphabet . . ."

* * *

><p><strong>I<strong>t was nearing nightfall by the time he was able to write his name. "Wonderful! Now, how do you think Belle is spelled?"

With painstaking care, he spelled out B-E-L next to his name. Belle leaned forward and chuckled. "Close, but not quite," she said, pointing to her name. "There's two Ls and an E after it."

"Oh." He frowned and quickly added the two letters. She beamed.

"Perfect!" She glanced up and realized just how close the two were.

_True love's kiss can break any curse . . ._

She jerked back, feeling a blush heat her cheeks. "Um. Good. Now that you know how to properly spell both of our names, I'm going to have you spell simple words. Write cat, dog and fish on the line below."

Rumpelstiltskin pressed his lips into a thin line and sat back. "I didn't come here for this, dearie. I came here to tell you something and I've been holding it off for too long."

She blinked and tilted her head. "What is it?"

"I'll be going away for a journey. A king whose son encountered quite an unfortunate circumstance has requested me. There's no telling when I will come back or how long I will stay. Don't do anything stupid."

Belle bit her lip. Her heart was hammering in her chest and blood was roaring in her ears. With Rumpelstiltskin gone, she could find the magical dagger that could free him from his curse. It was a perfect opening.

"I won't go back to the village, if that's what you mean."

"Oh, I mean much more than that," he said, staring her right in the eye. "I mean don't do _anything_ stupid. Read the whole time I'm gone, if you want to. But if I catch you being foolish, then the consequences might be—" he flashed a gruesome smile, "—in a word, severe."

She swallowed and looked down at the chessboard. He was resorting to threats? "I understand," she whispered.

Rumpelstiltskin stood up and giggled. "Don't be sad, dearie. I'll be back before you know it. I'm leaving tomorrow."

Belle nodded. "I understand. You have your deals to make."

"And you have your books to read."

He turned and went down the steps, whistling a dark tune to himself. Belle was left staring at hardly used paper and a still-full ink quill with the strangest sensation in her chest.

* * *

><p><strong>G<strong>aston slammed his fist down on the table in the tavern. "You're saying she's with the devil's miracle worker? My _fiancée_? I refuse to allow it! She could be in danger! Do you know what would happen to me if she died? I'd become a disgrace! I'd—" he cut himself off when he realized what he was saying and amended, "I'd be devastated."

Maurice nodded solemnly. "I would be as well, Gaston. She's told me she's safe at that creature's manor, but I don't know. She could have easily been intimidated into lying to me by him. It was _his_ fault that I became sick in the first place—if he gave me an illness that had me constantly on the brink of death, what's to keep him from doing the same thing to Belle?"

"Exactly!" crowed Gaston to the crowd of men. "And so, with the duke out of our hair, I propose that we go to this Rumpelstiltskin's stronghold and rescue Belle as soon as possible! Who's with me?"

The men stood up and cheered. Maurice glanced at Gaston with wide eyes. "But Gaston—" he began, "—that vile demon is always at the manor, unless someone calls him off for a deal. How can we find out when he won't be at the mansion so we can successfully and safely rescue my daughter?"

The door slammed open, catching their attention, and a rain-slicked visitor stepped in. They threw their hood back to reveal the most beautiful woman Gaston had ever seen—just as beautiful as Belle, if not more.

"I can help you with that, boys," the mysterious woman said with a smirk.


	4. Chapter 3

[**A/N**] Welp, good to know mine isn't as awesome as the show's. :) Next chapter's the last chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chances:<br>**_**Chapter 3**_

* * *

><p><strong>S<strong>he watched him go from her bedroom window. As soon as he had disappeared, she ran into the hall. "If I were a hidden magical dagger that could break a curse, where would I hide?"

What had Regina said? Something about armor?

_The armor's the last line of defense._

Armor. Where was armor in the manor?

Of course! Suits of armor lined the hallway leading to the kitchen and dining room. It would've been a perfect place for an evil sorcerer to hide the dagger. Belle gathered her skirts and rushed down the stairs, heading straight for the dining room.

She only stopped when she reached the mouth of the hallway, slightly intimidated by the various suits of armor that lined the halls—she had never paid any attention to them before and now that she thought about it they were quite frightening.

And that made them a perfect place to hide a dagger.

"How will I figure out which one it is?" she whispered.

She walked past the suits of armor several times before she noticed anything. Every suit was the same—each had a sword's sheath that was exactly the same. But the third one on her right—its grip was more slackened, less tight on its sword's hilt than the other ones.

She approached the knight and kicked the sword sheath. It made a rattling noise and came loose in the suit's hands.

She pulled the sheath off of the sword and stilled when she saw that there was no sword, but a dagger in its place. She pried it from the knight's metal hands and replaced the sheath, holding the dagger up to the light to see it better.

_Rumpelstiltskin,_ it read in thick black calligraphy.

Belle narrowed her eyes and lowered the dagger, turning around and stealing back to the stairs. She knew just where to hide it.

* * *

><p><strong>H<strong>e came back as she was reading a new book. "Hello, dearie," he greeted with a manic smile, staring at an upper corner of the room.

Belle smiled but did not look up from the novel. "Rumpelstiltskin. Back already?"

"Yep. Got everything sorted out with the king and I got what I wanted. Anything . . . _interestin'_ happen to you while I was gone? You weren't foolish, were you?"

He stared at her with such an intensity it made her skin prickle. "I didn't let anyone into the castle," she said, glancing up. "It was only me the whole time. So, no, I didn't do anything stupid."

His smile faded and he glared at her. "Of course you didn't," he hissed.

Belle sat up and shut her book, smiling brightly at him. "Ready to continue our lessons?"

He was unimpressed. "You disappoint me."

She blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rumpelstiltskin pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down across from her. With the snap of his fingers, the blank book and inkwell appeared. Belle frowned and didn't move to start the lesson. "Do you not want to learn?"

"It's not about that, dearie," he said. "It's about you falling for an _obvious _trap."

Belle shook her head and stared him down. "I—I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, sounding braver than she felt.

"_Sure_ ya don't," he sneered.

She huffed and stood up, striding toward the bookshelves. She ran her fingers over the spine and pulled out a thick book, tossing it onto the chessboard. Rumpelstiltskin stared at the dictionary silently as she brushed past him, walking regally out of the library.

He waited until the door slammed shut before standing up. "Where did you hide it, Belle?" he whispered, staring around the huge library. "Of all the places in the world, you chose this room. Where?"

He snarled and grabbed the dictionary, flinging it across the room. He would find it if he had to tear this room apart—Belle's feelings be damned.

* * *

><p><strong>B<strong>elle licked her lips and pushed open the door to the dining room, having freshly changed into a bright blue dress. "Good evening, Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered. He didn't acknowledge her. Either she had done something wrong and wasn't quite aware of it, or something on his journey had greatly distressed him.

"You're educated in morals, Belle," he said after she had started eating her soup, "so tell me. What wouldcha do if something precious to you was stolen?"

Belle blinked. "Well, um. I don't know. Did you get robbed on your way here?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "Answer the question."

"Well—it depends. If they wanted to protect you, if it was to help you—"

"How could someone stealing a valuable item _help_ me, dearie?" he ridiculed, nearly snarling. Belle fought to keep her expression neutral. He knew. He _knew_ she had taken the dagger—but did he know why? Did he know that it would help him?

"What was the item? I'm sure it can be replaced," she remarked.

"It can't."

"Do you know the motives of the thief?"

Rumpelstiltskin sat back in his chair, his lips twisted into an ugly scowl. His soup hadn't been touched—and hers was growing cold. She couldn't bring herself to eat any longer; her appetite had gone downhill with the conversation topic.

"I'm asking what you would do, Belle, not if I know the motives or not."

"I would find out what the motives are," she quipped. "And it depends on that."

The legs of the chair squealed against the stone floor as he stood up, a positively dangerous expression on his face. Belle stood up as well, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Tell me where it is, Belle, or I won't be held responsible for my actions," he whispered. No trace of his usual macabre humor was in his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she managed, curtseying. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm rather tired. I think I'll retire to the library."

When she pulled open the door, she gasped and shrank away. Several bookshelves had been tipped over. Books and loose papers littered the floor. The chess table was overturned. Banners that had once been beautiful were torn down, exposing the ugly gray stone walls behind it. It looked like a tornado had been unleashed in the library.

"What happened?" she whispered, stepping inside and running to the closest pile of books. She knelt down and gathered them in her arms, closing them properly and restoring loose pages to their appropriate location.

"Where is it, Belle?" asked Rumpelstiltskin softly. Belle glanced up at him, eyes watering.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. She was not going to cry over a couple of books in front of him. Rumpelstiltskin sighed and snapped his fingers.

"So be it."

Suddenly the books' broken bindings knit themselves back together. The toppled bookshelves righted themselves, and the banners were lifted off the floor, brushed off, and hung back up on the wall. The books she'd been holding flew out of her arms and into the shelves they belonged to.

Within a few seconds, it had been like the tornado never happened. She covered her mouth and stared at him. "It was you," she whispered. "You did this to the library."

He seemed like he was fighting a grin. "Maybe."

"Why?"

"I _told_ ya, dearie. I was lookin' for something."

"Why is it so important to you?"

His smile vanished and he turned on her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her roughly. "Because it's _mine_. I don't like things that are mine to be taken from me."

"Even if it'll help you?" she asked. He let go of her and frowned.

"It can only _harm_ me, Belle. Why don't ya _realize_ that?"

She bit back her response and shook her head. Regina had said he would act like this. "Of course it'll hurt you. Why can't you just accept help when people offer it?"

"Because no one ever wants to help me!" he shouted. "I trust no one but myself. Everyone in this world only wants things for their own gain. No one would even think about others if their welfare was threatened."

Belle blinked and went to a bookshelf to pick out the thickest book she could find. "Then I fill sad for you," she whispered, grabbing another book, "because clearly you haven't been exposed to the joys of life."

She brushed past him without another word. Rumpelstiltskin stared after her, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Belle, meanwhile, retreated to her room and brushed at her eyes. She would not cry because of him.

If he couldn't see that she was doing this for him, then she would show him.

Tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>I<strong>t was several hours past midnight before she finally heard Rumpelstiltskin go to his chambers. She knew from experience that he slept very rarely—sometimes not even at all—and thanked her lucky stars that he had decided to go to bed tonight.

After waiting another ten minutes or so, Belle slowly crept out of bed and into the library with only a single lit candle to guide her.

She knelt down at the doorway and set the candle down, using both hands to pry open the loose floorboard. She grabbed the dagger wrapped in paper and pulled it out of its hiding place, letting the floorboard snap into place.

She held the dagger to her chest and closed her eyes. "I'm doing this for you," she whispered. "I just want to help him. He won't actually get hurt."

_Trust your instincts, Belle. Use your head._

She picked up the candle slowly, noticing how badly her hands were trembling, and turned around. Skipping the steps she knew would creak under her weight, she ascended the stairs and turned down the hall to where she knew Rumpelstiltskin's room was.

Surprisingly, the door was already open, and she stepped inside the dark room holding the dagger hilt so tightly her knuckles were white. Rumpelstiltskin lay on his back, his eyes closed, on top of the covers. She held her breath, waiting for the moment when he would open his eyes and catch her, but it never came.

_Trust your instincts,_ Belle, warned Rumpelstiltskin in her mind.

_Come on. It's to break the curse. You heard what Regina said._

But what had Regina been doing on the road in the first place? Belle knew that that particular road was seldom used except by the villagers, and Regina was _definitely_ not a villager. Rumpelstiltskin had even dropped several clues. There was no way in telling that Regina had been right, or that the two even knew each other before.

They probably hadn't even met before then. Regina had most likely been using Belle—to kill Rumpelstiltskin.

Her instincts were screaming at her—this was wrong, this was so, _so_ wrong. _Trust your instincts, Belle!_ screamed his voice in her head. Warning her. Oh, how had she not seen it before?

She gasped and dropped the dagger, tears welling in her eyes. The dagger clattered to the floor. Rumpelstiltskin's eyes snapped open and he sat up, staring at Belle intently.

"I—I can't," she whimpered. "Oh God. Oh, _God_."

Rumpelstiltskin was in front of her in a flash, kneeling down to pick up the dagger. He tossed it on the bed behind him and watched her, face expressionless. She looked up at him, dabbing at her eyes with her thumbs. "I was such a fool. She told me it would break your curse and I _believed_ her!"

Rumpelstiltskin grabbed her arms. "Who, Belle? Who tricked you?"

"Regina," she whispered, fisting her hands in his shirt and shaking her head. "She said she was a childhood friend of yours and that—that a sorcerer put you under a curse."

Rumpelstiltskin snarled. "Let me make this clear, Belle," he hissed in a low voice. "I am not under _any_ curse. Regina and I are not, under _any_ circumstances, friends. We never _will_ be."

Belle shook her head again, eyes screwed shut. "I'm sorry," she whispered, shuddering. Rumpelstiltskin smiled and tilted his head up to the arched ceiling.

"Smarter people have fallen for less clever tricks," he said, patting her shoulder. Belle finally pulled away and he ignored the chilled, empty feeling she left behind. She wet her lips and looked at her feet.

"I'll be going now," she whispered. He didn't try to stop her as she turned and fled.

* * *

><p>"<strong>W<strong>e need to get her out of there immediately! The more time we waste talking about this, the more Belle is tortured by that _creature_," snarled Gaston, slamming his fist on the table. The mysterious woman rolled her eyes and set her glass of wine on the table next to her.

"Calm yourself, boy. You are acting foolish. We can't get to Rumpelstiltskin until we wait for the right moment. Fortunately, I know when that moment will be."

"You do?" asked Maurice. "Oh, fair lady, please tell us when we'll be able to rescue Belle."

She smirked and leaned back in her chair. "The night before Christmas, Rumpelstiltskin will leave to go make a deal with a person far, far away—a person by the name of Snow White, who is hiding in the forests of Andalasia. Once we know for sure he's left, we can split up and ambush him. We'll lie in wait in the road and capture him. Then I will go into the manor and save Belle from the horrible place."

"He knows the future," muttered a man. "How do you know he'll come out if he knows that we're waiting for 'im?"

The woman leaned forward and patted the man's cheek, causing him to turn beet red. "Oh, don't worry dears. I've got this all covered," she said, smirking. "Rumpelstiltskin will be ours by the end of winter. All you need is patience."


	5. Chapter 4

[A/N] It's dooone! Good thing this is AU. Anyway, I'm thinking of writing some pairing drabbles. Should I?

* * *

><p><strong>Chances:<br>**_**Chapter 4**_

* * *

><p><strong>B<strong>elle woke up to a pleasant surprise.

Sunlight filtered through the frosted window, making her sit up. She gasped, utterly delighted, and slipped out of bed, running to the window.

Snow sparkled on the ground below. It was everywhere—on the trees, on the house, and it was still falling in thick, lazy flakes.

"_Finally_," she whispered, breath fogging up the glass. She giggled and turned to her wardrobe, saying, "Do you happen to have any winter clothes in case someone wanted to go outside?"

The armoire's door creaked open to reveal a red-and-pink dress and robe set, complete with matching gloves and boots. She changed quickly, too ready to get out of the house and do something outside, and pulled the fur-lined red hood over her head.

Rumpelstiltskin caught her running down the steps. "Belle? What're ya doin'?"

Belle beamed and rested her hand on the front door. "It's nearly Christmas and this is the first snowfall we've gotten. I'm not going to just sit idly by!"

She got an idea and ran back up the steps, reaching for his hands. "Come with me."

He stepped away from her. "Why?"

"Well . . . I don't know, I was hoping we could do something outside? My father and I always had snowball fights and built snowmen and made snow angels whenever it snowed."

He shook his head and gave her a disdainful frown. "I have better things to do."

She shrugged and forced a smile, turning back around and heading to the door again. "Suit yourself."

She opened the door and headed to the backyard. Her boots sank ankle-deep in the snow with a small crunching sound and she tilted her head back, sticking her tongue out to catch a snowflake.

When she reached the backyard, she knelt down and started clumping handfuls of snow together. Soon she had a large ball of snow and rolled it over, turning around to begin the snowman's middle.

Suddenly her skin started prickling and she looked up. Rumpelstiltskin was staring at her through a second-story window. She beamed and straightened, waving at him slightly.

The drape he had been holding back fell into place again.

She frowned and turned back to her snowman, trying to ignore the growing disappointment inside her.

* * *

><p><strong>D<strong>inner was a quiet affair.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," said Rumpelstiltskin suddenly. Belle stopped chasing her peas with her fork and glanced up.

"Tomorrow? But . . ." she bit her lip and trailed off, her appetite suddenly gone.

"Yes?"

"Christmas is in three days. Will you be back for Christmas?"

Rumpelstiltskin blinked and looked away. "I don't know. It depends on the deal."

"What's the deal?" she asked, genuinely curious. He tilted his head and grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"Curious now, are we?" he asked.

Belle shrank back into her chair. "I was just wondering," she defended slightly.

"Ah, well, deals are personal, you see. I don't think I can just give 'em to ya without something in return." His grin got wider.

"It's always about _your _benefit, isn't it?" she said flatly, putting her silverware on her plate. His smile vanished and he sat up a little straighter.

"It's how the world works, dearie. Why would I do something without a reward? It's simply not logical."

"It's doing the right thing, and being _kind_," she retorted, throwing her napkin on her plate and standing up. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be—"

"I'm going to a southern country," he hurried, cutting her off. "A fairy there has something I want. I'll be meeting her at the prince of the country's ball. I've heard the place very beautiful." He closed his eyes.

Belle wasn't sure how to reply to that. "Well, that's wonderful, and I hope you have a good time at the ball—"

"Do ya want anything while I'm there, dearie?" he asked, opening his eyes. Belle swallowed and stared at him.

"Do you mean it?"

His expression soured. "Or maybe not."

A smile tugged at her lips. "A rose, please," she requested. "Just a rose."

He didn't acknowledge her, and after a few minutes, she turned and headed to the library.

Well. It was a step in the right direction.

Afterwards, he found her in the library, reading an adventure book. A wax-wrapped paper object was in his hands. She shut the book and straightened as he sat down across from her. Carefully, slowly, as if he was afraid of her rejecting him, he took her fists and opened them, placing the object in her hands.

She opened it slightly to reveal the jagged dagger and looked up at him. "What—"

He shook his head, cutting her off, and said, "Will you protect it while I'm gone?"

Belle wrapped the paper around the dagger and held it to her heart. "With my life," she whispered.

* * *

><p><strong>R<strong>umpelstiltskin grinned and watched the newly transformed maid hurry off to the castle where her darling prince was. He'd complete the bargain soon enough.

He twirled the fairy godmother's wand in his hands, humming a tuneless song to himself, and turned to go when a bright bush caught his eye.

A bright red rose bush, unaffected from the mild temperatures of the southern country, towered over the rest of the plants in the garden.

_A rose, please,_ said Belle in his mind.

"Aha!" he said, smirking, and stalked toward the bush. This family was so snotty; it would be fun to spite them. Of course, they would probably blame it on that poor little maid girl, but who was he to care about her fate? The only thing important about that Cinderella was her end of the bargain.

As soon as he plucked the rose from the bush and made its thorns disappear, a vision flashed before him.

* * *

><p>A small mob of people, some holding torches, others knives, were standing in a clearing—and Regina was in front of them, an arrogant smirk on her lips.<p>

"He avoided us!" shouted one man, raising his fist angrily.

"He could still be with Belle!"

Regina held up her hand, effectively silencing the crowd. "Yes, Rumpelstiltskin has avoided our little trap. He safely hides in his manor, fast asleep and dreaming of gold. But don't fear, my dears. I have a plan. I'll go in and rescue Belle—once she's safe, we can give him a Christmas present he'll _never_ forget."

* * *

><p>Images of the manor burning and Belle's piercing screams plagued his mind and he shook his head. "No!" he hissed, turning and breaking out into a run.<p>

Belle.

He had to get to Belle.

* * *

><p>"<strong>W<strong>e wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year," sang Belle, twirling around and placing yet another present on the ground. The house, she had discovered, was enchanted—whenever you wished for something that you needed, like when she was thinking about what to get Rumpelstiltskin for Christmas, it just appeared, similar to the dinners and her armoire back in her room.

She set the present down underneath the tree and the window next to the door shattered. She gasped and stood up, gathering the skirts of her yellow gown, and was horrified to see a lit torch lying on the ground.

Within seconds, the whole room was ablaze, and she could've sworn that she heard someone laughing upstairs.

The dagger! They wanted the dagger!

She inhaled sharply and spun around, running up the stairs to her bedroom. Smoke stung the air and her eyes.

She ran into her bedroom and slammed the door shut, going to her armoire and opening the doors. The dagger was right where she had left it, wax paper untouched and undisturbed.

She grabbed its hilt and coughed as smoke started pouring in from underneath the door. Grabbing a half-read book from her end table, she braced both items against her chest and flung open the door.

The fire had already crept up to the second story, much to her horror. Tears were now streaming down her cheeks and she coughed, shielding herself as she ran through the flames for the library. The library had windows, windows that could break—

Just as she entered the as-of-yet untouched room, an unseen force knocked into her, sending her flying. She landed on in front of the second landing. A sickening snap sliced through the air and white-hot pain shot across her arm.

"Not so fast, dear," said a voice. "You have something I want."

* * *

><p><strong>R<strong>umpelstiltskin dismounted the heaving horse and ran into the forest. He could already hear the snapping and cackling of flames.

When he reached the manor, he started and backtracked. The house was engulfed in flames. A crowd of men were loitering about in front of it, muttering amongst themselves anxiously. Amongst them was Belle, dressed in a beautiful yellow ball gown, staring at the flames.

Someone grabbed his arm, making him start. "You _coward_," hissed Maurice. Rumpelstiltskin turned to him and frowned. "You ran out here without getting Belle first?"

He glanced back at Belle's silhouette, confused. "_That_ is not my daughter," said Maurice, trembling. "She was never a fan of bloodlust. _That_ is an elaborate trick."

Rumpelstiltskin barely kept himself from killing the man on the spot. "She's still_ in there?_"

"Regina—"

"Fool!" he hissed, turning on him. "Regina _can't_ be trusted."

"I know!" replied Maurice. Tear tracks on his face shone in the firelight. "I know. I've made a terrible mistake. You need to go save her. Get my daughter out of that house, I beg you—she's all that I have left."

Rumpelstiltskin didn't even hesitate. "Keep them off my back," he hissed, nodding to the crowd of men in front of the house, and disappeared into the shadows. Maurice turned away and shouted, drawing the attention of the men, and they quickly went after the old man.

He avoided the mob and went straight for the house, kicking open the door

The fire avoided him like the plague, skirting around him in a wide circle that left him with fresh air and little blistering heat. "Belle!" he shouted, whirling around in a circle. "Belle, where are you?"

The Christmas tree was burning. A wooden beam splintered and fell, landing on the staircase and showering sparks—and blocking his way to her room. He turned to head to the kitchen when the fire suddenly roared to life in the hallway, blocking his exit.

Seeing no other way to go, he turned and ran toward the library. The door caved in on itself when he kicked it open. "Belle!" he cried, coughing in the smoke and moving toward the center of the library. "Belle, are you here?"

A figure stepped through the flames, but it was definitely not Belle.

Regina smirked at him, her hands clasped behind her back. "Hello, Rumpelstiltskin. How are you?"

His upper lip curled in disgust. "What did you do with Belle?"

The queen smiled and inspected her nails, paying absolutely no attention to him. "Belle? Oh, you mean that little sweetheart who gave me . . . this?"

She held out the magical dagger. Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes and cursed himself. He knew he shouldn't have trusted that girl, and yet he'd done it anyway. And look how she'd repaid him.

Regina started stalking around him in circles. "Yes. I know her. She played right into my hands. She's quite pretty, but she's an airhead—she believed you were capable of love, did you know? Ha! _You_. A monster who cares _nothing_ for anything but himself. Who could ever love a beast like you?"

He clenched his hands into fists, but otherwise said nothing. She had the dagger, and thus his life, in her hands. It would be suicide to talk back. "And what do you plan on doing with that, Regina?" he asked, nodding to the dagger in her hands. A bookshelf fell over, sending sparks everywhere. The fire seemed to grow bigger, devouring everything in its path, and he briefly wondered where the hell Belle was before Regina's words snapped him out of his thoughts.

"This? Oh. Simple. I'm not going to kill you, if that's what you're worried about. Well, maybe I'll manipulate some idiot to do it for me, but for now I plan on using your power for myself. I think I'll make you my own little messenger. How does that sound?"

"Tell me where Belle is," he said through his teeth.

Regina smiled. "I don't think you can be giving orders around here anymore, Rumpelstiltskin. But—to ease your mind—she's right here."

The queen flicked her wrist, and a shimmering outline of Belle coiled together to form a lifelike mirage. Belle smiled and lifted her arms to him. Regina sneered. "That is your precious Belle. I hope you're smarter than those buffoons outside waiting for you to come out. They think that Belle is perfectly safe and sound outside, cheering for your death just as much as they are."

Belle's mirage smiled again and disappeared. Rumpelstiltskin snarled and moved forward too quickly for the queen to react, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her up. "Where—_is_—she?"

Regina croaked, "Release me!" and his hand spasmed against his will, releasing its hold on her throat. She dropped to the floor and started laughing. "Well, well, well. It seems that the rumors were true. Let's try another thing. Give me that pretty little fairy godmother wand you have, Rumpelstiltskin."

His free hand, holding both the rose and the wand, took the wand and gave it to her. He gritted his teeth, focusing all his concentration on defying her. But it was no use—she snatched the wand away from him and inspected it in her hands.

A banner that had once decorated the walls fell off its hook and was soon reduced to ash. His eyes stung and his lungs burned, but he couldn't move. Regina didn't seem affected at all.

"I wonder . . ." she whispered, holding up the wand for her inspection. "I wonder if I'll become like you if I kill you with this. Yes, that seems like a much better idea. I already have what I want from you. I won't become cursed like you, and I won't have anyone else to challenge my power for my plans."

She smiled and faced him again. "Kneel before me, Rumpelstiltskin."

He glowered, furious, and stayed where he was. Suddenly his body twitched and he felt himself go down heavily on one knee. A crack was heard throughout the room and he bit back a cry. Regina started laughing. She raised the wand, opened her mouth—

—and a dark shape loomed out of the flames and collided with Regina. The queen's eyes widened and she went down, the dagger clattering away out of her reach. Rumpelstiltskin dived for the weapon and gripped its hilt before turning to see who had just sacked the queen.

Belle sat up on Regina's stomach—her body badly burned, her hair singed and her face bloody—pulled back her arm and socked the queen right in the face.

"You—will—_never_—_ever_—hurt—my family—_again!_" she screamed, accompanying each word with a punch and a beating with the book in her other arm. Rumpelstiltskin got up and nearly went down again as searing pain erupted in his knee.

He managed to hiss a painkilling spell and got to his feet, limping to Belle. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her off of the queen. Regina's nose was bleeding and one of her eyes was already becoming bruised—clearly unconscious.

Belle got up and reached for him. A book was tucked under an arm, and her other arm lay at an awkward angle by her side. Rumpelstiltskin saw red and turned back to the queen, ready to kill her, but Belle shook her head.

"No! We—we need to . . . get out of here," she gasped, holding her side. Tears ran down her cheeks. Rumpelstiltskin nodded and wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her good arm around his neck. Together they hobbled toward the large window as the house came crashing down around them.

Suddenly Belle screamed and collapsed, sagging against him. Rumpelstiltskin lowered her to the ground and started when he saw red blooming across her stomach.

A dry laugh came from behind him and he whirled around to see Regina slowly getting to her feet, the wand in her hands.

Suddenly a bookcase groaned and swayed, splintering and collapsing on the queen. He snapped his fingers and the wand flew to his hands. "I hope you burn, witch," he hissed, kneeling down and picking Belle up. With a flick of his wrist, the window shattered, and he picked her up bridal-style. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he hobbled out of the house and into the snow outside.

They collapsed just at the edge of the backyard forest, a few feet away from Belle's half-melted snowman. "It hurts," gasped Belle, reaching out. "It _hurts._"

He grabbed her hand and closed his eyes. "I know, dearie, I know. It'll be better soon."

He waved the wand over her stomach, hoping against hope that it would work. She stopped panting and relaxed after a few moments, and squeezed his hand. He took a deep breath and handed her the rose. She managed a weak smile—one that he couldn't bring himself to return.

"Thank you," she breathed. "Rumpelstiltskin—I . . . I didn't give her the dagger. She—she took it from me."

"I know. I can't believe I wasn't here in time," he whispered, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

Belle squeezed his hand almost too tightly and frowned. "It's not your fault. It's my . . . my idiotic _father's_."

He shook his head, frowning. She gave a shuddering sigh and reached up to cup his cheek. "You are a wonderful person, Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered, blinking hard. "You're good, even if you don't think so."

He leaned into her touch. "How can ya say that about me?" he hissed. "I'm a _monster_. Everyone knows it except _you_, dearie."

Her eyes turned sad. "Is that all you think you are? A hideous, terrible beast that everyone is afraid of?"

"That's precisely what I am, Belle. Ya—ya just don't seem to _realize_ it."

She hiccupped and, with his help, sat up. Taking a deep breath, she murmured, "Is ugly the worst thing a person can be? Worse than jealous . . . or vindictive . . . or chauvinistic? Worse than bossy, boring, haughty? Worse than vain or pessimistic or shallow? Worse than—than _cruel_?"

"I'm_ all_ of those things!" he shouted, clutching her wrist so tightly his knuckles were white. She held the rose close to her chest and blinked back tears.

"You're hurting me," she pleaded. He let her go and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Rumpelstiltskin, I think you're a good man. You've just let terrible events—_ow!_ Terrible events shape your outlook on life." She winced and sucked in a breath through her nose.

He raised the wand, ready to put her back together, but she put her good hand on his arm. "Don't. Don't try to heal me."

"Dearie," he seethed, staring at her ripped and charred dress—the scarlet stain on her stomach—the trickle of blood on her chin—her singed hair—her skin, some places burnt to the bone—"you will _die _if I don't help ya."

"I know," she replied, voice so faint it scared him.

He seized her good hand, suddenly desperate to make her understand. "Don't do this, dearie. Don't do this. I'm not—" he cut himself off and frowned, looking away, unwilling to continue.

She merely smiled and pointed at the book lying by her side. "Read this to me, Rumpelstiltskin."

"I can't—"

"I know you can. You've been learning for a year."

He picked up the book and opened to her bookmarked page with trembling hands. Slowly, he began to read, stumbling over the bigger words and needing her help pronouncing some of the other ones.

He drew Belle into his chest as he did so, showing her the pictures of Estella and Prince Charming. Even when the house collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing but soot-covered wood fragments and dying embers, he continued reading to her.

She sighed and leaned into his chest. "I love you," she breathed, so faint he thought he'd almost imagined it.

"And they lived hap-pil-y—ev-er—after," he finished, glancing down at Belle when he was done. "Belle . . . I read the book."

She didn't move.

His heart started hammering in his chest and he shut the book, tossing it into the snow. Snowflakes danced around them, dusting Belle's hair in a fine layer of white.

"Belle?" he whispered, brushing her arm with his hand. Her skin was so cold. So _dreadfully _cold.

He turned her over in his arms. Her eyes were closed and she held the rose tightly in her hands, pressed close to her heart. "Belle. _Belle!"_

She didn't move.

He started shaking as he drew her back into his arms, pressing his cheek against her snow-dusted hair. Slowly, he started rocking her back and forth, like a parent soothing their child to sleep.

Belle was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>M<strong>r. Gold smiled as he handed Poppy the money for the flower.

"Is it for _her_, sir?" she asked, selecting the reddest rose she could find and handing it to him.

He nodded. "Yes."

Poppy fisted her hands in her apron. "Well, merry Christmas, sir!"

"Goodbye, Poppy," he said pleasantly, turning around and making his way to the cemetery. Who he found there surprised him quite a bit.

"Ah! Miss Swan. What are you doing this fine evening?" he asked, making his way toward her. Emma Swan jammed her hands in her jacket pockets and pressed her lips into a thin line. He glanced over her shoulder to see the name and continued on his way. "I see. Graham was a fine man."

"Graham was just an acquaintance," she replied, stepping around the graves and following him. "What are you doing here? It's Christmas. Shouldn't you, I don't know, be celebrating with friends and family or something?"

"I could be asking the same of you," he replied, turning down a row and making his way to a grave. "Christmas isn't exactly my favorite holiday, to be honest."

"Oh. Well. I was just wondering. I mean, Ruby just stays with her grandmother's, Mary Margaret spends Christmas alone, and no one ever has long-lost relatives over. Isn't that strange?"

"This is a strange town," he replied, coming to a stop in front of a particular grave. "But I think if you look hard enough, you'll find what you're searching for."

He knelt down and laid the rose on the grave. Emma frowned and tilted her head, staring at the grave with a peculiar expression on her face. Good. She was making the connections that she needed to.

"Rosabelle? Who's Rosabelle?" she asked.

Mr. Gold smiled at Emma and turned around, making his way down the hill. "Just an acquaintance," he said over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>"<em>Belle" <em>

_Rosabelle Miranda Gold_

_January 2, 1963 -_

_December 25, 1982_

_Always in our hearts_


End file.
